


Parlez Vous Francais?

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: French!Castiel, M/M, french!charlie, french!dean, highschool!destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Parlez Vous Francais?

“Est-ce que tu l'aimes?”  
Do you like him?

“Beaucoup.”  
A lot.

“Castiel, il est un tel mauvais garçon.”  
Castiel, he’s such a bad boy.“

Castiel sighed, Charlie was right. They were two rows behind Dean in physics. They figured what the hell, he can’t understand them anyway. This goes on sometimes, but it’s not always because of Dean. Charlie was an exchange student, Castiel was her helper. She didn’t realize she would have to help him.

"Allez parler à Dean, pour l'amour de Dieu.”  
Go talk to Dean for God’s sake.

But he couldn’t do it, whether Dean could understand him or not. And this goes on for several more days, Dean hearing his name in their conversations on a daily basis. Among other things, too. He can understand him, and they don’t know it. It’s even harder when one of them make a joke and he tries so hard not to laugh. One time he heard Castiel making a crack about his Batman underwear from gym class, Charlie snorted. The whole exchange was so cute he just couldn’t be mad at him.

“Quel est votre favori de la qualité de Dean?” Charlie asks one day in english class.  
What’s your favorite quality of Dean’s?

“Je ne sais pas. Peut-être les yeux. Traits de caractère, son intelligence.”  
I don’t know, his eyes maybe. Traits of character, his intelligence.

“Vous pouvez continuer,” She laughs. “Je vais l'écrire.”  
You can keep going…I’ll write it down.

He pushes her shoulder as the bell rings. Class begins, and partners are rattling of. This semesters writing assignment.

“Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak.” The teacher says in a bored tone.

“Bien sûr.” Dean says under his breath.  
Of course.

“Bien sûr.” Castiel says to Charlie.

-

They exchange numbers, Dean makes sure to call him first after school to see where he wants to meet. They end up at the library, Castiel preferring the domesticity of it. They slay all of their materials on the wooden desks and set to work on the history of France.

“What about in 1066, when La… la tap-ta..” Dean pretends like he can’t pronounce it.

“La tapisserie de Bayeux. Castiel says in a matter-of-fact-tone. He doesn’t mean to. "You mean the invasion? No I think that more has to do with Normandy, we should just stick to France and its attractions, not its wars.” Dean nods, and digs his head back into his textbook.

He gasps. There’s a food section of the textbook! He calls it, Castiel waves his hand at him, dismissive. He sets his pace, he table and gets to work on the la gastronomie franciase. He figures the blueberry pie is his favorite, as he’s had it about a thousand times before.

“Dean, it’s been two hours.” Castiel says after the respective amount of time. “We’ve got a week to finish this, can I please go home?” He whines, shakes his shoulders and chest. Dean chuckles, takes his reading glasses off.

“Sure Cas, head home, I’m not your parent.” He watches as Castiel sighs and packs his things, so swift and almost jittery. He’s out in a flash and Dean feels empty afterwards. He fills himself back up with words of war and love and history and language and he’s settled again. Nothing like a good book.

-

It’s two days later and Dean has finished his part of the assignment, to which Castiel couldn’t be more surprised. It makes Dean so anxious, because what if Cas gets suspicious? He doesn’t know if he can hide it for very long. What if he lets something slip? He won;;t be able to take it back then. He has joy in listening in on Cas’s conversations, imagine how mad he would be if he found out Dean was snooping…

It’s the third day and Dean texts Castiel. He thinks he may be ready to tell him, but he’s still so scared.

Dean; 2:06

Je suis désolé  
I’m sorry

Castiel; 2:08

Parce que?  
Because?

Dean; 2:17

Je l'ai gardé de vous.  
I kept it from you.

Castiel sighs to himself. He should’ve been more careful, he knew he’d heard Dean muttering. In his native language, none the less. How could he have been so stupid? But he doesn’t care. They’re both in the wrong here, what with Dean keeping it a secret and Castiel saying the stuff he did.

Castiel; 2:25

tu parle français, ainsi quoi?  
you speak french, so what?

Dean; 2:26

Because I want to take you on a date, Cas.

He blushes, looking at his nickname on the screen, next to date, with Dean in the recipient bar. Fuck him, Cas is so happy. It doesn’t take him too long to gather himself and answer. He’s got a smile on his face for the rest of the day. Tomorrow his dreams would come true, and he doesn’t know if he’s truly ready.

-

“It’s three in the fucking morning, what’re doing, Winchester?” Castiel yells from his window. He can see the shadow three stories down shift from side to side on his feet. He shrugs, tells Castiel to get his things, and heads out of sight. Cas sighs, slams the window and does as told.

“Denny’s? Really?”

“C'mon Cas, why are you so incredulous tonight? Take a chance! Eat some waffles with me!” They both roll their eyes and hop out of the car, laughing and pushing each other back and forth while walking to the door. They walk in, rowdy, and you can see the cashiers sighing visibly.

“A Stack of blueberry waffles for me,” Dean says, a big smile on his face.

Stupide abruti, Castiel thinks. Tu es trop mignon.  
Stupid fool…. you’re too cute.

“And strawberry for me!” Castiel cuts in for himself. Nothing like a good controversy. Dean eyes him, but he just smiles innocently in return.

They get seated, talk for a bit about nothing, and a little bit of everything in between. And then they get their waffles, a lull in the conversation, much to the cashier’s happiness. Dean smiles at Castiel on his last bite, not toothy, but syrupy. He responds with bits of strawberry on random teeth, and then they laugh, and it’s so messy.

“So,” Dean says, wiping his face. “When and where’d you learn?”

“Well, first language, and France. Parents were, you could say, travelers. And then I happened, here we are.” Castiel shrugs a lot, wiping his hand off, as if busying himself.

“Aunt was traveler too. She brought me to her lessons as a kid when she would babysit me. I loved it, so I kept it up through school, and here we are.” They both smile, something they’re still not used to doing too much around each other.

-

“Here we are!” Dean says, looking over the ledge. The sky is a mix of orange and pink, sparkling against the lights of the city. They’re so high up and it’s so beautiful and perfect. Perfect right here, with his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. He can feel him sigh, and the hum only calms him even more. He looks over to see the man’s hair flopping wildly in the wind, and a familiar content smile on his face.

“Here we are.” Cas says. He lock the lock on the Eiffel Tower. Their kiss distracts many.

“Je t'aime.” They say at the same time.


End file.
